They were leaning on the wall
With legs slightly spread frowning brows
With hands crossed half open lips
They talked of the landlords
With clean white shirts and well pared nails
Shining black shoes sunglasses and words
I said something about homes
With neatly cut hair freshly shaven chins
Artificial teeth and the belts - they had belts
They said that I should move out
I never knew they came on behalf of death
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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